


im alright in bed (but im better with a flip phone)

by sadrobotboy (bruisesandcontusions)



Category: Bandom
Genre: M/M, entirely written for my own needs, pete is a fuckboy, teenage ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisesandcontusions/pseuds/sadrobotboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>ryan. 17. nv. give me envy / malice / attention</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	im alright in bed (but im better with a flip phone)

**Author's Note:**

> it's been over a year since i completed a fic and then i wrote this in a day. blame will and rosie probably

Ryan's dad isn't in when he gets home, so he figures his boss still hasn't seen sense and fired him. Not that Ryan minds - the more time his dad spends out of the house the better, and christ knows what they'd do without his paycheck now that Ryan's mom is out of the picture. He grabs himself a glass of water and makes his way to the den, where he begins the lengthy process of booting up the computer.

By the time the login screen is visible Ryan's already finished his drink, and he shoots a text to Spencer while he waits for the desktop icons to load. Spencer replies immediately because he always does, and Ryan's bemoaning the piles of homework on his desk to him even as he's loading Internet Explorer and quickly checking his LiveJournal. 

There's a few new messages from his scenewhore friends in Chicago which he bashes out replies to, and his latest picture has almost 30 comments (less than half of them his own replies), but he doesn't bother sticking around to see what anyone else has posted. He likes LiveJournal, but he's still just as much of a nobody on there as he is in real life. What's the point of broadcasting yourself across the globe if it still doesn't get you any attention? 

Ryan can't resist a furtive look around before he types out the next address, like he's 12 and his mom's going to catch him watching porn. He gets the usual thrill as the page takes its time loading, heart fluttering just a little. He wonders how many new messages he has. If any of them are close enough to meet up with. 

He’s been doing this for 6 months now, ever since he decided that it was pointless trying to maintain internet romances if all they did was leave him 17 years old and still a virgin. It had been some offhand comment from Spencer that had started it; something about Ryan pimping himself out on online dating sites (not that he’d wanted to do that exactly, but still, the idea had merit. There was something to be said for the anonymity the internet provided until he could get the fuck out of Vegas), and from there it had just... evolved. 

When he’d started, it had taken a week for the first message to be posted. Now, he’s finally getting his share of online fame, even if it is on the seedier side of the internet. 

His mind skips to thoughts of the last time, the last guy, how he'd held Ryan down and fucked him in a hotel room while his dad thought he was at Spencer's, playing video games and avoiding their homework. (The fact that Ryan had to pay for half the room himself despite being a broke teenager had kind of sucked, but whatever. Greg had even been nice enough to let him suck him off in the shower afterwards, which you couldn't say about most closeted married men in Vegas.) 

The page is finally fully loaded, and sure enough there are three new posts since last night. One of them is a spam message which Ryan deletes straight away, and another says that the guy in question is 50, but it's the most recent post that catches Ryan's eye. 

_pete. 24. IL originally but somehow ended up in vegas. i'll give you whatevr u ask (except my bank details, sorry!) xo_

It's nothing special, but it makes Ryan laugh, and that's more than can be said for most of the people who post on seedy chat rooms like this. 

**hey pete,** he replies. **how do you 'somehow end up in vegas'? i mean, there's a lot of desert to drive through before you get here**

He knows it's kind of lame, especially since he'd usually just start off with whatever he thought the guy wanted to hear, but he's genuinely curious (and also he can feel the excited flipping in his stomach because Pete lives in _Vegas_ and he's only _24_ and Ryan wants him already.) 

Ryan waits a minute or so to see if the guy replies immediately, which he doesn’t, then minimises the window and opens up a word document to start bullshitting his history essay for tomorrow. When he refreshes the page after 20 minutes, there's another comment on the thread. 

_long story. unhappy ending. nvr go chasing pretty boys across the country, u hear me?_

Ryan smirks as he types out a reply. **don't worry, pretty boys chase me**

It's only a matter of seconds before Pete's next comment appears. _oh i can imagine ;)_

They message back and forth for the rest of the evening, Ryan's essay blissfully forgotten about, until his dad comes back and throws him out of the room so he can watch the TV. It results in an argument that Ryan knows he has no chance of winning but continues to yell through anyway, and as he's heating their dinner in the microwave he realises he left his conversation with Pete halfway through a sentence. 

He glares at his reflection in the glass. If his dad has ruined his chance of hooking up with someone that isn't twice his age, he's going to be so pissed. 

*

Ryan doesn't get time to check the site the next morning, so he makes his way back as quickly as possible after school without actually running, telling Spencer he'll call around later. The computer seems to take even longer than usual to load, and Ryan wonders why he cares so much about getting back to Pete. After all, age doesn't mean anything - the guy could be ugly as hell, or the type of loser who would beat Ryan up for being a faggot after he'd finished sucking his dick - but Ryan just knows neither of them are true. Pete seemed so nice and funny last night, not at all like some of the assholes Ryan's suffered through talking with before only to find out they live in Maryland. None of them have ever made him smile before. 

He ignores the new posts and checks his thread with Pete - unsurprisingly there are several more messages from where he was cut off, the last one of which simply reads, _u ok?_

Ryan smiles. It's not much, but it at least makes him think that maybe Pete cares enough about him to want to know that he's alright. Most guys would have just given up and moved onto some other teenage boy without a look back. 

**sorry,** he types out, **i was super busy last night. send me your number if you want to make this easier?**

He's been bolder with guys online before (hell, normally he'd ask for a dick pic as well as a number), but for some reason it's this reply that makes him nervous. He really hopes Pete hasn't given up on him, that he still wants to talk, to meet up maybe. For whatever reason, Ryan doesn’t want to let this one go just yet. 

Ryan refreshes the page three times within the next five minutes, then tries to distract himself by replying to a few other posts. One of them is a guy named Jake who wants Ryan to make a porno with him. The other is 15, and Ryan is tempted for almost a minute before he remembers Spencer's baby fat and wide, innocent eyes and deletes the thread. He has to draw the line somewhere. 

The truth is that he's just not interested in all the other guys propositioning him, not when Pete is so much cooler and funnier than all of them. It always happens like this, and he knows himself well enough to recognise the cycle. There's always one guy he falls too hard for, lets himself get caught up in the idea of everything he wants them to be, and suddenly nothing else seems to matter anymore. He knows he'll be over it once they fuck, will have managed to get it out of his system so it stops consuming him once he's spent and sated, but until then he's willing to embrace it. At least it keeps things interesting; trying to sleep with someone he actually likes. 

Just as Ryan's about to leave for Spencer's, a comment finally pops up in Pete's thread. It’s a phone number and a winky face, and Ryan's beaming as he saves it into his phone as _pete xo_.

*

Ryan knows he's probably being pretty rude right now, but Spencer has known him long enough that he shouldn't really expect any better. 

"I just don't get why you do it," he says, leaning over Ryan's shoulder and trying to read his texts to Pete. "Plenty of people in school want to sleep with you. Why do you have to use the internet?" 

"Plenty of _girls_ want to sleep with me," Ryan corrects him, hitting send and trying to pretend he's not already waiting for Pete to reply. "Catholic school isn't exactly a homosexual stomping ground y'know." 

Spencer scowls at him. "Yeah, I know that, thanks. But you've got to admit that these guys are all creeps, Ryan. I mean, they know you're seventeen, right? And yet they still want to sleep with you?" 

Spencer's really getting on Ryan's nerves, and Ryan flops back on the bed to try and ignore him. It's not like Spencer hasn't raised these valid (and yeah, Ryan _knows_ they’re valid, okay?) points before, but Ryan doesn't want to think about the fact that he's a minor who's fucked guys old enough to be his dad. More importantly, he doesn't want to think of Pete as a creep. 

Okay, so he's seven years older than Ryan, but he acts like a teenager, asking Ryan about his favourite cereal and telling him about the pranks him and his friend Gabe have pulled at their office. He uses more emoticons than anyone Ryan's ever met, and it's hard to associate all that with the idea of an internet predator in Ryan's mind. Mostly, though, Ryan just wants Pete to fuck him, and Spencer making him think about the morality of it all isn't exactly a turn on. 

"I think you're just jealous," he quips, expecting Spencer to laugh. Spencer goes silent at that, and Ryan looks over at where he's sat on the end of the bed, eyes widening. 

"I’m not fucking jealous," Spencer snaps, but he's flushing slightly and he's not looking at Ryan. 

"Hey," Ryan says, sitting up and curling himself around Spencer. Spencer doesn't try and pull away, so he figures he's safe for now. "Guys are gonna like you, okay? And girls, even if you're not into that or whatever. And you deserve better than some creepy perverts on the internet to lose your virginity to." 

Spencer continues to stare sceptically at him for a moment, before sighing and shaking his hair off of his face. "Yeah, I know, I’m fucking cute as hell," he says, squeezing Ryan's waist and reaching to grab a controller. "Wanna play Mario Kart?" 

Ryan sucks at pretty much all video games, but he smiles at Spencer and takes the other controller. 

“You're going down, Smith," he warns, and ignores the vibrations in his pocket for at least the next ten minutes. 

*

**send me a pic** , Ryan texts when he gets back home. His dad's in the living room, drinking quietly, but he seems more thoughtful than angry so Ryan figures he's safe to stay home tonight. He also figures he should probably have asked for a photo of Pete earlier - normally he doesn't even accept a phone number without knowing what the guy looks like. 

Pete's reply takes a minute to come through, and Ryan almost freaks himself out worrying if he's gone too far, if Pete is secretly ancient and ugly, or if he'll never talk to Ryan again. Then his phone buzzes and he loads the picture attachment and just stares. 

Wow. 

The photo is clearly taken by a phone camera, and the pixel quality on Ryan's phone is terrible, but he can still tell that Pete is seriously hot. He's shirtless in the picture and there are so many tattoos that Ryan totally wants to bite, and Pete's eyes are dark and smouldering in a way that's probably completely deliberate but still makes Ryan's stomach flip. 

**nice** he types out, then realises how incredibly lame that sounds and deletes it. **i like your tattoos** he sends instead. **got any more?**

_a few ;)_ Pete replies. _wanna see them?_

The next picture Pete sends shows a stretch of tan stomach decorated with the dark lines of a bold logo, above a pair of jeans hanging so low on Pete's hips that they look ready to fall down. Ryan leans in to peer closer, examining the tattoo (some sort of bat-heart combination that he vaguely recognises) and staring at the v of Pete's muscles, the jut of his hipbones less skinny than Ryan's but still prominent. 

He sends **wow** before he can stop himself, then cringes. 

_u like it?_

**yeah,** Ryan types out, trying his best to sound nonchalant when he can feel himself getting hard already. **would be nicer without the jeans though**

His hand is in his pants before Pete even replies, unable to stop himself (17 year old hormones, he tells himself, it's totally not his fault). It's not like he didn't see this coming, and Pete is way too hot to even bother resisting. 

When his phone vibrates again, he's almost scared to check it. The photo loads more slowly this time, like it's teasing Ryan for being so desperate, but the sight of it is enough to make him bite down hard on his lower lip to stop himself from gasping or something equally embarrassing. Pete's cock is thick and Ryan can just imagine how it would feel inside him, the stretch and the burn of it. His hand strokes faster inside his jeans, the elastic of the waistband making his movements difficult. 

The text beneath the picture reads _better? i wouldnt want 2 disappoint u_.

Ryan actually blushes. He doesn't know what wrong with him - he's done this so many times, he knows how to flirt and act coy and send the most explicit messages he can think of, but Pete makes him feel awkward and uncertain, like he's 13 again and still doesn't understand why he can't talk to boys. 

**much better** he replies, shoving his jeans and boxers down past his ass so he can start stroking himself in earnest. He can’t stop looking at the picture of Pete's dick, wondering how it would feel in his mouth, how it would taste. Pete's next text surprises him, he's so caught up in his own personal fantasy. 

_u gonna send me a pic 2? not fair ive gotta jerk off ovr nothing here_

Ryan swallows at the thought of Pete jerking off over this - over him. He imagines Pete's dick slick with precome as he bucks up into his hand, and has to breathe heavily to stop himself from coming already. 

He selects one of the photos on his phone to send Pete - it's one that's up on the website, shot so that his face can be seen, but his hair provides enough anonymity should (god forbid) anyone at school find the site. He's aware of how pale and skinny he is compared to Pete, and hesitates before sending it, but there's no point hiding himself now. Pete's probably seen the photo anyway. Ryan wonders if he's jerked off to the pictures on the site before, and bites back a groan at the thought. 

_ur so hot_ Pete's next text reads, and then, _what r u doing rn?_

Ryan almost wants to laugh because seriously, what else would he be doing now that he's seen _that?_

**what do you want me to be doing?** he asks. He's pretty sure he knows what's going on here, but he doesn't want to presume anything and scare Pete off. It's been so long since Ryan's wanted someone this much, and wanted them to want him too. If he fucks it up now, he doesn't know what he'll do. 

He watches the screen, waiting to see what Pete will say. Part of him wants to be told what to do, how to please Pete, just so that he'll stick around. 

_can u finger urself 4 me?_

Ryan blinks at his screen for a moment, confused. No one's ever asked him to do that over messaging before. Normally they just want to tell him how hard they want to fuck him, how much he'll love it. Ryan tells them what they want to hear and they make the rest up for themselves. 

He's reaching for the bottle of hand cream tucked beneath his mattress before he can think about it, only stopping to type out a quick reply to Pete. **i can do that**

He feels excited as he slicks up three fingers, the familiar fluttering in his stomach as he spreads his legs wide on the bed, reaching down to push one inside, too turned on to tease himself at all. He barely registers Pete's _fuck yeah_ as he quickly slides in a second finger, opening himself up and pushing in to the second knuckle. It's been a while since he last did this, but he wants more already, wants Pete's fingers and his cock inside of him. 

He reaches for his phone with his free hand and texts **you're so hot. i want you so badly**. It's the type of corny line he'd use on any of the guys from the site, but this time he means it. He wants anything Pete will give him. 

Ryan curls his fingers inside himself, knowing exactly where to push and twist, and finally reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock. When his phone screen lights up, he glances over, craning his neck to read Pete's words. 

_ryan fck rayn_

It's so desperate and needy, even over text, and the image of Pete typing it out with one hand while the other strokes himself hard and rough is what tips Ryan over the edge. He bites his arm as he comes, sinking his teeth into the pale skin of his bicep so hard he knows it's going to bruise just to stop himself from moaning out loud. He clenches around his fingers, cock spurting across his stomach. He's panting shakily when he collapses against the mattress, fingers slipping free while his come begins to cool. 

He's preparing his muscles to move him as far as the shower when his phone buzzes beside his head. Wiping a hand against the sheets, Ryan reaches out and flips it open to view the message. 

_well that was fun_

Ryan laughs. 

*

"Are you still messaging that guy?" Spencer asks, watching as Ryan giggles over his phone at some dumb joke of Pete's. "Aren't you bored of him yet?" 

His voice is flat, but Ryan can tell he's secretly interested. He looks up from the screen and raises an eyebrow at Spencer. 

"I’m meeting him this weekend actually," he says, trying to sound nonchalant and like he's totally not freaking out over the idea of finally _(finally)_ getting Pete to fuck him. 

Spencer's face screws up and he sighs. "I really don't think that's a good idea, Ry." 

Ryan rolls his eyes. He's heard this from Spencer a hundred times, but he knows that saying it makes him feel better, like he's at least trying to protect Ryan from himself. 

"What if he's an asshole?" Spencer asks, and Ryan knows he means _what if you get hurt?_ He remembers Spencer helping him home from a motel across town, lip bleeding and eye swollen while Spencer did his best to keep him upright. There's a flash of something sour and apologetic in his stomach that he quickly pushes away. 

"He's not," he tells Spencer shortly, just as his phone buzzes with another text from Pete. Ryan glances down at it automatically, and when he looks back up, Spencer is giving him his biggest bitch face. The text reads _ur a hmwrckr w a heart of gold_.

Ryan leans forward and kisses Spencer's forehead. 

"You worry too much for a 16 year old," he says, and what he means is _I’m going to be fine_.

*

Ryan agrees to meet Pete in a coffee shop in the centre of town, because, despite what Spencer might say to the contrary, he is not actually an idiot. He showers for over an hour before he leaves, and debates for almost as long over his makeup, but he still arrives ten minutes early. 

Ryan doesn't actually like coffee that much, but he orders a latte because he hopes it will make him look sophisticated. He looks around the shop but he can't see Pete anywhere, so he pulls out his phone and fiddles with it instead. He sends Spencer a **do you think the lipgloss was too much?** before a pair of cold hands land on his bare arms, making him jump. 

"What the...!" he spins around and Pete is standing there, grinning at him. 

"It is you! I knew I’d recognise that ass anywhere!" 

Ryan swallows and tries not to flush red while Pete laughs at him. He's even prettier when he's not pixelated: his mouth is wide when he smiles, flashing shiny white teeth, and his hair is longer than it had been in the photo, straightened over his forehead. He looks happy and comfortable and thankfully not like he's planning to beat Ryan up later (which, y’know, is always nice), and Ryan doesn't even pretend not to check him out as he orders something complicated with three shots of espresso in it and finds them a table. 

Pete makes small talk, cracking jokes and making fun of all the couples sat around them. It feels no different to when they're messaging, and Ryan lets himself pretend, just for a moment, that they're on a date too. He's grateful Pete doesn't ask about school, doesn't do anything to remind Ryan that he's seven years too young for him. He just drinks his coffee like its water and teases Ryan about his eyeshadow and gives him dark, promising looks over his cardboard cup. 

Eventually Pete says, "So, you wanna head back to mine?", looking pointedly at Ryan like he doesn't know what he's insinuating, like he hadn't been expecting this, waiting for it, all along. Ryan nods and looks up at Pete through his lashes and hopes that he's pretty enough for Pete to want him even half as much as he wants Pete. 

*

Pete drives them both back to his apartment, and normally Ryan has strict rules about getting in strangers' cars but right now he doesn't care. Pete, it seems, is breaking all his rules anyway. 

Ryan's glad Pete doesn't try and talk during the drive, not least because Pete is not a particularly good driver. He's also glad Pete lives alone, and that he doesn't try to offer Ryan a glass of water, and that he pulls Ryan into his bedroom hastily but that his fingers are gentle around Ryan's wrist. 

Ryan glances around at Pete's bedroom, still ridiculously teenage with band posters and books everywhere, and doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Pete's hands are on his hips, fingers playing up underneath his shirt, and he's just staring at Ryan's mouth. 

"So," says Ryan, then decides _fuck it_ and takes off his t-shirt. Thankfully Pete gets with the programme quickly and follows suit, leaving Ryan feeling pale and awkward as he stares at the wreath of thorns around Pete's neck. 

"So," Pete says, and then his arms are around Ryan's waist and he's kissing him. 

Ryan knows he's small for his age, but Pete's barely an inch taller, so he doesn't have to lean down to kiss him. Pete's mouth is soft but he kisses Ryan hard, tasting like coffee as he pushes him down onto the bed. 

Ryan decides he could happily make out with Pete for a long time, maybe forever if necessary, but his dick has other ideas. Pete's thigh presses up against his crotch, and Ryan bucks up against it automatically, a pathetically needy sound escaping from his mouth. Pete looks up from where he's sucking a bruise into the soft skin of Ryan's neck and raises an eyebrow. 

"You wanna?" he asks, and Ryan just nods fervently because he doesn't trust his mouth right now. Pete grins and leans up to kiss him again, biting at Ryan's lips and slipping his tongue inside. Ryan groans softly when Pete pulls away, but Pete just grins and shucks off his jeans, letting Ryan fiddle with his own belt and peel off his socks while he leans over to dig around in a desk drawer before returning with a bottle of lube. 

Ryan feels desperate for it already, just wants Pete inside of him right now, but he tries his best to look composed, angling his head so Pete can see the bruises forming on his neck. Pete pauses between his spread legs and looks up Ryan's torso, eyes dragging slowly over the skin until Ryan wants to cover himself completely or yell at him to get started already. 

"You're so fucking pretty," Pete says, and after all the filthy messages and pictures they've been exchanging, that's what makes Ryan blush. He can still feel the heat in his cheeks as Pete leans down and licks a long stripe over his entrance. 

Ryan's eyes widen and his breathing increases rapidly because no one, _no one_ , has ever done that for him before. Pete licks at him again, then again, spreading Ryan apart with his thumbs and pointing his tongue so that it's pushing inside. Ryan feels open and exposed and he wants Pete to see him like this, wants him to know that he can take whatever he wants from Ryan and that he'll still want more. 

His chest is heaving from the effort of not crying out when Pete pulls away and he hears the sound of the bottle being opened, and Ryan already knows he wants so much more than he can have. 

Pete fingers Ryan quick and messy, but his fingers are thick and when they curl up against Ryan's prostate he keens and throws his head back against the pillow. "Fuck," Pete groans, pulling back and slicking up his cock before pushing in deep. "Fuck, Ryan, you're so fucking hot." 

Ryan's moaning now, glad that he doesn't have to keep quiet because he feels so good with Pete angling inside him, making him squirm and pant. He's done this with so many guys, and it always feels good, the stretch and the heat and the slap of skin, but this is different. He's never felt this alive before, never wanted to reach up and inside the person he's fucking, to mesh their bodies together until he can't separate them. Pete fucks him hard, and it hurts in the good way that Ryan can never explain even to himself, but he still wants more. 

Pete pins Ryan's hands above his head with one of his own, reaching down to pump Ryan's cock with the other, and that's it, Ryan is done. He tries to hold on for as long as possible, but Pete whispers " _come on,_ " and he just lets go, spurting between Pete's fingers and gasping for breath. Pete follows soon after, coming with a grunt and a rather ridiculous face, before pulling out and collapsing next to Ryan on the bed. His hand brushes up Ryan's side, and Ryan does his best not to grab hold of it. 

He tells himself that it's just sex, that Pete is just another guy with a piece of Ryan under his belt who he'll have forgotten about by Monday. Pete turns to him, grinning lazily, and Ryan ignores the burn of want still sparking beneath his skin even now that it's over. When Pete kisses him, he does his best not to kiss back too desperately. 

*

Later, Pete pulls Ryan into the shower and kisses him slow and dirty under the hot spray. Ryan licks his way down Pete's chest, even though the tattoos don't taste like anything other than water and strawberry body wash. He spends extra time on the bat-heart, biting at Pete's stomach until Pete pushes desperately at his shoulders and Ryan drops to his knees with a grin. He lets Pete fuck his mouth, and his hands are gentle in Ryan's hair even as his hips buck up against his face. 

Ryan almost feels sad when he's brushing his teeth afterwards, washing the taste of Pete out of his mouth. He borrows Pete's eyeliner where it's lying next to a hairbrush and a packet of pills, applying it quickly but accurately. The last thing he wants is for Pete to think he's been crying. 

He looks in the mirror, and his own black-rimmed eyes stare back at him, huge and guarded. His lips are still slightly swollen, and Ryan licks at them then smiles at himself. He almost wants to take a picture. 

When he gets back to Pete's bedroom to recover his socks and his phone, Pete is laying back on the bed, eyes closed and hands folded over his stomach. He looks up when Ryan comes in, watches him collect his belongings before grinning at him again, huge and lopsided. 

"Hey, so my band's playing a show next week. You should totally come along." Pete's wearing nothing except for a pair of girls jeans that look dangerously close to falling down, and he just gave Ryan the most mind blowing sex of his life, and yet for some reason he look almost nervous, eyes wide like he means it. 

Ryan smiles. "I can do that."

**Author's Note:**

> btw [this](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ll34kz2vaT1qhs66e.jpg) is the pic ryan sent pete. we've all seen the one pete sent ryan


End file.
